Ocean Breathes Salty
by Cometas Por El Cielo
Summary: Mallory and Finnick Odair are as thick as theives, an unseperable pair- until Finnick is reaped for the 65th Hunger Games. Watch as Mallory's life is turned upside down as her brother fights for his life in the arena. Title borrowed from a Modest Mouse song.
1. Swim

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. I only own my OCs.

Mrs. Odair has Munchausen by Proxy Syndrome (MBPS), a rare form of child abuse that involves the exaggeration or fabrication of illnesses or symptoms by a primary caretaker. In MBPS, an individual — usually a parent or caregiver— causes or fabricates symptoms in a child. The adult deliberately misleads others (particularly medical professionals), and may go as far as to actually cause symptoms in the child through poisoning, medication, or even suffocation. In most cases (85%), the mother is responsible for causing the illness or symptoms.

This first chapter is largely an intro chapter with some context and character background.

So when Finnick and Mallory talk about "Mom making you sick," it's that. The MPBS will not be a central theme in the fic, just mentioned.

The "Old Language" mentioned is Icelandic. Occsional words and phrases will be slipped into the fic, like in this chapter- Rostungur is walrus. Njord is the Norse god of the sea, particularly of seafaring. Niflheim is the Norse Hell or underworld.

The "child of pudding" insult is Turkish. In Turkish, it's "Muhallebi çocu u," and is used to describe someone who has had life too easy.

* * *

**Swim**

* * *

_You gotta swim_

_And swim when it hurts_

_The whole world is watching_

_You haven't come this far_

_To fall off the Earth_

_-Jack's Mannequin "Swim"_

* * *

"_Oy! Mallory, I'm a walrus!"_

_I look up from my bowl of oyster and veggie soup and see my idiot brother with two spoons hanging out of his nose, giving the appearance of rostunger tusks. Our mother hollers at him to stop playing with the silverware, but I find it funny and snort loudly. Throughout the rest of dinner, Finnick and I make jokes and poke fun of people at school. Our merriment is cut short by the familiar feelings of nausea. _

Great Njord Almighty, Mom. Not again!

_My drinking glass falls and shatters on the floor when I bump the table on the way to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet to vomit, cursing my mother's soul to Niflheim the whole way. My knees give out just as the last heave runs its course. I'm prepared for my nose to collide with the toilet seat, but a pair of arms grabs me by the armpits just in time. I cough a few times before I stand up and look under the bathroom sink for the mint candies I buy by the hundreds, when I can, and pop a handful into my mouth. _

_Standing behind me is my brother, wearing a frown. "Mom made you sick again."_

"_How the hell do I know it wasn't you? You're the one that made dinner tonight, how do I know you're not the one that spiked my bowl with ipecac syrup?"_

_Finnick leans against the sink, exasperated. "You know I'd never. Mom used to make me sick too, remember?"_

_I do remember. Finnick and I were born just ten months and two days apart, so until we were old enough to know the difference in gender, we shared a bedroom in our cottage by the sea. Our father, a loving, gentle teddy-bear, is a deep-sea fisherman and spends a lot of time at sea, leaving us in the care of our mother. Mom makes us sick. At least, that's our best description of it. She's convinced doctors that we've had flus, fevers, and other ailments by giving us substances to induce the symptoms. Once, she even pushed my brother down the stairs so that he'd break an arm. We don't know why she does it, and nobody believes us when we tell them, so we learned to just shut up about it and keep each other as safe as we can._

_My brother wraps his arms around my shoulders and gives a quick hug. "I'll make sure I'm the one that handles your dinner plates from now on. Mom's not going to mess you anymore as long as I'm here, Mal."_

It's funny how long a memory can stay fresh in someone's mind. The memory from that night's dinner is still fresh, despite it occurring three years ago. I wish I could take it and tuck it away in the annals of my brain, but the mind doesn't work like that.

A cold breeze blows through the permanently-open window and my teeth chatter. I swear under my breath and clutch at my threadbare blanket. Tossing and turning on the mattress makes the springs squeak and creak, waking some of the children sleeping nearest me.

"Njord, Odair!"

"Shut up, you're waking everyone up!"

"Prissy child of pudding."

"Mal," whispers a fourth voice. "Come here."

_Finnick, thank goodness. _I grab my blanket and hop off of my bed and make my way to my brother's equally creaky and uncomfortable mound of springs. He presses himself up against the wall to make room for me, and we share both blankets. I'm glad that the Community Home doesn't separate boys and girls into different bedrooms, because otherwise, my brother and I would be separated.

Four months after that last ipecac syrup incident, our father's boat docked and he would be home for eight weeks. On his third night home, he witnessed my mother trying to suffocate me in my sleep and promptly grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the wall, demanding that she explain herself. She tried to lie, but couldn't think fast enough. Finnick and I told him everything, told him exactly how many times she'd made us sick just to garner sympathy from people. Papa was furious and kicked her out of the house that night. The next day, Papa went to the justice building and ordered for a _maðurvar _to perform the _matchka_, a sort of ceremony confirming a divorce.

We haven't seen hide or hair of our mother since, and good riddance. For the first few months, Papa was able to care for my brother and me alone. But, as fishermen often must, he had to go back out to sea. He couldn't possibly ask his brother or either sister to care for us full-time, because they were also poor fishermen with families to raise. In Four, if a fisherman is a single parents, they can leave their children in a Community Home while at sea and take them back when they're docked. Our father had no choice but to take advantage of this option.

Throughout our lives, our father earned promotion after promotion, furthering his rank on the ship until, finally, he was promoted captain eight months after kicking Mom out. This meant more money, but also more time at sea. A portion of our father's wages is sent to us for spending purposes, and another portion goes to the Community Home for our care. I hate the Home, but at least we aren't here year-round.

~.*~.*~.*

"It's almost sunrise," Finn whispers. "You never fell asleep."

"Neither did you," I tell him pointedly.

"You always fall asleep when I let you sleep with me. Why didn't you sleep?"

I tell him to shut up and mind his own business, but he presses on and asks me if it's because of the reaping. "No!" I whisper with anger.

"You're lying," he says with one eye open. "Don't worry about it, sis. Your name is only in there twice."

"But yours isn't."

Even with the Community Home's (mediocre at best) care, our wages from working at the docks and on close-to-shore ships, and our father's monthly allowance, it still isn't enough. Finnick takes out tesserae each year and enters his name three extra times. At least, it's _supposed_ to be only three extra. What some kids in the Community Home do is claiming other kids as their siblings so they can enter their name a few more times. That is exactly what my brother did; he was able to sneak four extra kids in on his tessera ticket, giving him a grand total of twenty-four slips. He refuses to let me take out tesserae, placing the burden squarely on his shoulders.

Finnick tells me not to worry, like he always does. "There's kids whose names are in more times. Plus, this is District 4, we're a Career District, 'member? Also, don't forget that I'm not just all sexy good looks. I'm top of the training academy. I can kick some ass."

He's right. Both Finnick and I spend a ton of our time training at the training academy under the tutelage of District 4's previous victors, as does the majority of District 4's youth…unless they live in the Home. Now that I think of it, that is another reason that Finn and I get called 'prissy pudding children.' Many children living in the Community Home don't care about training and never bother to show up, but there are a few handfuls of us that care. Finnick is exceptional with almost every weapon he touches, especially spears and tridents. They're nothing but deadly extensions of his arms. I don't doubt my brother's ability to win, if he were to be chosen, but the thought of him leaving fills me with trepidation. I have nobody except for him.

The first traces of sunlight appear in a coral pink and dusky purple sky filled with cotton clouds. Finnick taps my shoulder for me to get up and get dressed. We walk to our frænka Eyrún's house, like we do every reaping morning. Frænka Eyrún is our father's sister. Eyrún is six years younger than our father, but has four times as many children. I don't pay attention to most of them; they're kind of bothersome. Our aunt keeps some of our things at their house while we're in the Home, such as our reaping clothes.

Eyrún pays me little mind but fusses over Finnick's hair, chastising him (as usual) for not keeping up with it. That's how it usually is, wherever we go. Finn is fawned over and people tend to forget that Mallory Odair even exits, but that's all right. I like being in the background most of the time, it means I can observe things.

Once he's dressed, he puts my hair in a fishtail braid. We leave Eyrún's house with goodbyes and that is it. There may have been a time when extended family members would have a closer, more meaningful relationship, but these times certainly aren't like that.

Finnick stretches out his arms and yawns. "You know," he says. "The thing I hate about District 4 is waking up this early for the reaping."

"Yeah!" I laugh nervously. The reapings are broadcast to the Capitol giving thirty minutes airtime to each. "Hey, Finn. When is Papa's ship docking next?"

"Four more days, Mal. You know that."

"Yeah, but I was just hoping we somehow skipped the rest of the days and that he'd be coming home today. We get to go back to our _house_, Finnick. Our house with windows that close, plenty of blankets, and our own bedrooms. I miss our house, don't you?"

He blinks his green eyes and shrugs. "I guess so. It's all the same to me, we're the children of a ship's captain either way. The only difference is where we sleep, is it not?"

"I'm convinced you're an eighty-year-old cynic trapped in a boy's body," I turn left towards the beach with the pier.

"Where are you going?"

"To the ocean, silly. I want to see if I can see any ships, are you coming or are you off to find the rest of your clique?" His clique being Anri Graham, Ronan Shen, and Mads Iwahara, the other top boys at the academy and his best friends.

"You go on to the beach. I'll see you at the reaping, and don't be late!"

"Suit yourself," I say, shoving my hands in the pockets of my dress and continuing toward Pier Beach.

~.*~.*~.*

We were five when our father set out for his first deep-sea trip. Finnick looked at Papa like he was a superhero with his toothless grin, clutching a wooden trident and cheering for him to "catch lots of fish," but I was begging him not to go.

'_You has to stay and play with Mallory, Papa!' I protest._

_Papa smiles and crouches down to my level. 'You know I'll come home, Mallory, it's just a few months at sea.'_

'_But Daddy!' I only call him Daddy when I'm very distressed, even at five._

'_I have a present for you,' he says, reaching into his pocket. 'Close your eyes, Mallybear, it's a surprise.'_

_Obediently, I squeeze my eyes shut and don't even open them when his hands move near my neck. I hear my mother gasp right when Papa tells me I can open my eyes. On my neck dangling from a black string hangs a silver orca leaping out of the ocean with a sapphire between the water and the creature._

_My mother grabs me hard by the shoulder and glares at Papa. 'Lachlan, that looks like it was expensive. You have to take it back.'_

_I'm about to cry again when Papa says, 'It was very expensive. It was expensive generations ago, when it first came into Odair family ownership. This necklace has been passed down from generation to generation in the Odair family for over one hundred years, Mally. It's yours now.'_

_I squeal cheerfully and admire the orca. 'Really, Papa?'_

'_Of course, firefly. It was your frænka Enid's as a child, but she gave it to me to give to you when you're ready.'_

'_I'm…I'm ready for it now?'_

_Papa picks me up and sets me on his knees, kissing my forehead. 'You can carry a little piece of the sea with you wherever you go. I want you to wear this necklace every day, firefly. Every day, you understand? As long as you have it, I'll never be too far away.'_

'_You mean you'll come back whenever I want?'_

'_No, not anything like that. I'll always be right here,' he taps my chest lightly. 'All right, Mally?'_

'_Okay, Papa. I'll wear it every single day!'_

Eight years later, I still wear the same orca around my neck waking or sleeping. I can't remember the last time I took it off, even to shower. Long gone are the days when I thought that the orca gave me a magical land-to-sea connection with my father, but it has never lost its dearness to my heart. It still makes Papa happy that I wear it every day. Anything that pleases him pleases me. He works so hard for my brother and I, I owe it to him to make him smile.

If I stand at the end of the pier, I can see some of the fishing ships. The deep-sea vessels are starting to dock today and will finish docking on Friday, when Papa's ship, the Rosy Lou will dock. I'm so full of joy that I just have to let it out in mirthful laughter as I stand alone on the pier, waving to fisherman on ships who probably can't even see me.

I dread the day when my brother will age out of the reaping and must join my father at sea, but even thoughts like those can't crush my spirits during Docking Days. I think of all of the men and women on those ships, missing their families like my father misses his, and how everyone is being reunited. Docking Days are too happy to allow sadness.

Even when they also happen to fall on Reaping Day.

~.*~.*~.*

I spend a few more hours on the pier staring at ships.

I hear the clock tower chime twelve times for noon. The reaping start promptly at twelve fifteen every year.

I scream, running from the pier and off of the beach. Town square is fairly close by, but unless I sprint the whole way…Nobody knows what happens when children miss the reaping ceremony. Nobody has ever dared miss it, and Mallory Annette Odair won't be the first idiot to try.

My sandals have fallen off somewhere in the streets by the time I make it to town square- with six minutes to spare. I go to the check-in table, wince as my finger is pricked, and run around looking for some of my classmates, or better yet, my brother. I run smack into another person, knocking us both to the ground.

The boy shouts, but not at me. He shouts _to _someone else. "Eh-yo, Odair! Found your sister!"

I blush tomato. The boy I tackled is none other than Anri Graham, eighteen-year-old, second-rank male at the academy, and one of Finnick's best friends. Anri is handsome, but that's not why I'm blushing. Finn and his friends are practically royalty to every teenager here, and tackling Anri Graham just looks bad. Not that I have an image to maintain or anything -the Odairs aren't the kind of people to care what other people think- it's just embarrassing to tackle your brother's friend in public.

Anri laughs at me as he drags me over to where Finnick is standing with his other friends, seventeen-year-old Mads Iwahara and eighteen-year-old Ronan Shen. The guys greet me with bro-hugs and claps on the back as if I'm one of the guys. I wish I could find some of _my _friends, but with the reaping starting in two minutes, there's no time, so I settle for standing with the guys.

The crowd falls silent when Mayor Seaburgh stands at the microphone and reads The Treaty of Treason in his droning monotone. Thngs finally get interesting when our District's escort, Phili Gregorovic, mounts the stage, making a point to flirt with the mayor's wife and two of the female victors.

"He's so flamboyantly gay," Anri smirks.

"Nothing wrong with liking the D of course," says Finn. "But don't pretend like you don't."

"Shut up!" I hiss. "I'm trying to pay attention." Mads and Ronan smile at me and wink, putting their fingers to their lips to show that they're silent. I appreciate that.

"Welcome!" Phili outstretches his arms, his shiny, eggplant purple lips stretching into a grin, revealing his unnaturally white teeth. His neon blue, green, and pink nails are almost reflecting in the sunlight, and his bleached white hair makes the neon orange stripe on each side of his face stand out even more.

Phili grabs the microphone from its stand and shouts, "Who's ready to get this started!"

A loud cheer erupts from the audience. The District is split about 60/40 in favor of the Games; Four's tributes are usually members of the Career pack, and we train like One and Two, making us a generally 'Career' District. The Odair family has, historically, been dedicated to training, but an opponent of the Games themselves.

Phili seems pleased with this response and continues. "Welcome to the reaping ceremony for the sixty-fifth annual Hunger Games! As always, we will start with our ladies!"

I close my eyes and wait in darkness for him to shout out a name. "Kaluka Manihera!"

From the other side of the crowd, a girl with long black curls and olive skin steps onstage. Unlike the other Career Districts, District 4 candidates are polite and wait from the escort to ask for volunteers after each tribute is chosen before we go screaming. When Phili asks if there are any volunteers, there is one girl who screams that she is up for it.

Nina Kapadia, of course. Nina is sixteen and is the number one female in the academy. Currently, I rank sixth, but am moving up. Nina is good with long range weapons and hand-to-hand combat; I know from sparring with her. I also know that her weakness is- ironically- spears and tridents, and that while she is excellent with close combat knife fights, her forte is wrestling. She could win the Games with that. If she wrestled a tribute and rendered them immobile long enough to slit their throat- _Boom! _goes the canon.

"Now," shrieks Phili. "For our gentlemen!" His arm dives in the reaping ball and pulls out an envelope.

My heart stops and everything falls silent as the world stops around me. He's a good thirty feet in front of me before I register what is happening. _He's _the male tribute. It's _him. _It can't be him, he can't go, he can't leave!

I charge forward, screaming. "Finnick. Finnick, no! Finn, come back! What are you doing, come back! You can't go, you can't-"

Two Peacekeepers move forward to threaten me, but Finnick's friends beat them to me. Anri steps in front of me to block my brother from my sight and the others step in between Anri and I and hold onto me so that I can't move. Phili's request for volunteers goes unanswered.

District 4's male tribute is Finnick Odair.


	2. Temporary

Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own the Hunger Games. I only own my OCs.

I have a photobucket album and Spotify playlist linked on my profile. I constantly update Spotify and will add new character models as they're introduced.

This chapter is pretty uneventful, more of a foundation as well. Next chapter will have the chariot ceremony, and Mal and Finn's dad's homecoming and finding out that Finn is in the Games. Mads Iwahara will be an important character, so will his (Finnick's) other two friends.

* * *

**Temporary**

* * *

_Is this the moment where I look you in the eye? _

_Forgive my promise that you'll never see me cry_

_- David Cook "Permanent"_

* * *

I'm still in shock when the Peacekeepers lead him inside the Justice Building at the conclusion of the reaping. My nails dig into the dirt and grass, grains of the sandy soil sneaking under my fingernails. The guys pick me up off the ground, my eyes still wide with the worst kind of bewilderment. Mads, always the gentlest of the group, takes my hand and leads me to the Justice Building.

My head is spinning as we follow Ronana and Anri inside with Peacekeepers everywhere, guns wielded, loaded, ready. I try my best not to have a panic attack as we walk down the narrow halls.

"Here to see him or her," snaps a gruff woman's voice from behind her Peacekeeper helmet. I vaguely make out her bright blue eyes and dark hair.

"M-my brother," I stammer.

She gestures with her gun to the room to the right. "Three minutes, kids."

"She's going in alone," Ronan says.

"We'll see him when his sister gets her turn," Anri adds.

Mads opens the door for me and ushers me in, closing the door behind me.

Sitting in the chair by the fireplace is Finnick, the flames illuminating his face, reflections of embers in his eyes. He almost doesn't look like himself without his carefree smile. No matter what, Finnick is always smiling. Except now, he isn't. I cross the room and embrace him, gasping in surprise when he harshly pulls me closer.

"Don't you cry, don't you _dare _cry," he hisses in my ear.

"How can I not?"

"Please Mal," he pulls away and holds onto my shoulders. "If you cry, I'll cry."

"No you won't," I force a smile. "You never cry."

He falls silent. Not having hit his growth spurt just yet, he's only a few inches taller than me, but it still seems like he's as tall as our father when he speaks to me in his 'respect-my-authority' voice. "Mallory Brooke, I mean it. You're a tough girl but you're going to have to be a whole lot tougher since I won't be-"

"Don't talk like that! Don't you dare talk like that, not after all we've been though!" I shout.

"Since I won't be there anymore." He continues, ignoring me. "Don't you ever take out tesserae, Dad's allowance and the money you earn from working on ships and the docks will be enough to support you. Anri's sister is got married, so there is an extra room at the Graham's house for sleeping if the kids at the Home are just too mean. You know Richie rich Mads always has room. I'm not coming home, Mal, so-"

_Crack! _My palm connects with the side of his face. Finnick backs away, his mouth agape.

"Finnick. Ibrahim. Odair. You _will _be coming home. How can you just give up like this? You're top of the training academy! You and I endured living with our _mother _for most of our lives! Our mother made us vomit, suffocated us until we were near-dead, poisoned us so that we'd mimic symptoms of Njord knows what! We've survived the Community Home together because of _you. I _have nothing to do with it; it's all _you. _How can you give up now, Finn? How?"

"Because I'm fourteen, Mallory! Do you know how many fourteen year olds win the Hunger Games, even well-trained ones? None, zero, zip, zilch, núll! I have no chance, none."

"If you die, I will never forgive you," I seethe. "Never, Finn. If you give up, then so will I."

"That's not fair."

"Is it?" I unclasp my whale necklace and hand it to him. "Here's your token."

His face pales as he stares down at the piece of jewelry. "I can't accept this. Mal, it's your special necklace."

"Even more the reason for you to take it. If you die, you can't give it back. If you can't give it back, I'll hate you forever for losing it. So you have to come home and hand deliver the necklace back to me."

"If there's a trident, then maybe-"

"No maybes," I take the necklace back and take it upon myself to clasp it around his neck. "There will be a trident. If not, use your sex appeal or whatever to get sponsors somehow, they'll get you one."

He laughs, "Never say that I have sex appeal again. I get enough of that bullcrap from girls that are not my sister. It's incesty coming from you."

"It's supposed to be, genius." I chuckle. "But seriously. Girls here fawn over you; rich Capitol girls will do the same if you just flaunt what the Odair Pretty Gene has given you."

He smiles and exclaims "The mythical OPG rears its mythical head!"

"Win." I tell him. "Win."

"I'll try."

"There's no try. There is do and there is do not."

Finnick blinks his sea green eyes at me, far different than my bright blue, and shakes his head. "Today of all days. I'm sorry that this happened _today_. It's your-"

The door bursts open, a Peacekeeper coming in to tell us time is up. Finn grabs me and hugs me one more time and kisses my forehead. As the Peacekeeper drags me out he shouts, "Mal, Mal! I'll win, all right? I'll win!"

As I'm led down the hall, I encounter the rest of my brother's posse and look directly at Mads. "Tell my brother I love him. I…forgot to."

"Of course I will," says Mads.

~.*~.*~.*

After the reaping, I go back to Pier Beach and sit atop the pier to watch the ships come in. Just because the Capitol is taking my brother away doesn't mean that I can just stop being happy about the fishermen and sailors returns home. There're still plenty of things to be happy about today, so long as your name isn't Mallory Odair.

It hasn't even been an hour and already I miss my brother.

Some of our classmates think we're creepy close for a brother and sister. Even the workers at the Home think so. Maybe it's true, but not for the reasons that they think. Our closeness is anything but the taboo, incestuous thing that they make it to be.

Our parents married when our mom was fifteen and our dad was nineteen- girls marrying as young as fifteen is the norm in 4. They were married for a few months before our mom became pregnant with our older brother, Declan. Declan was born just before Mom turned sixteen, but he fell ill with a mysterious sickness when he was two years old and he just never got better. Finnick and I hypothesize that Mom made him sick and killed him on 'accident.' Our parents were very sad when he died, but wanted to have more children anyway and soon, our twin sisters Ariya and Corrina were born. Corrina died in her crib one night when she was four months old. SIDS, they say, but I have a better idea of what happened. Ariya was luckier, though. She lived to be three. Our brother Raiden was born when Ariya was one and lived to be fourteen, but in the meantime, brothers Emerson (five years) and Gavin (seven years) happened. Emerson had another 'mysterious' illness. Gavin, however, we are sure wasn't a victim of our mother. Gavin was swimming with his friends one day. He never was a great swimmer. Our dad was on a small boat near the shore when he saw a small child drowning. He didn't know it was his son when he dove in to save him, but it was too late by the time he swam over.

Devastated, he became overprotective of Raiden and refused to have any more children. Funny thing about life is that it doesn't work out as planned. Mom became pregnant with Finnick when she was thirty and was barely thirty-one when he was born. Papa wanted him to be the last, but whatever contraceptive measurements they were using didn't work out too well, because Finn wasn't even a month out of the womb when I happened. Ten months after he was born, I was. Raiden was still alive. He still might have been, had he not been in that fishing accident. Neither of us remembers him, but we have pictures.

It's no wonder we were never allowed in the ocean without one of our parents until Mom got kicked out. It's no wonder that the only time we could be away from home without Mom or Papa was when we were at school or at training. We had nobody to play with besides each other, no one to hang out with besides us. Finnick and I became more than siblings, we became best friends and each other's lifelines.

I can see where the incest rumors stem from: us typically sharing a bed in the Home, him sometimes holding onto my arm on busy days in town, the fact that we are almost always together. But it's nothing like that. We both need each other is all. We rely on each other for almost everything. I'm all he's got and he's all I've got.

My neck feels empty without my whale. At least the emptiness reminds me that my brother will be home soon. I brush my fingers through my brown hair and stare at the ships, wishing that Papa's would come just four days sooner.

Four more days, I can do it. I can wait four more days. I'll just sleep at Anri's or Mads' place instead of the Home until he gets back. Mads' place, that is. Anri…is nice and all, but intimidating. It's just four days.

Only four, and in four more weeks give or take, Finnick will come home. I know he will.

~.*~.*~.*

The Iwahara family likes to pretend that they aren't rich. Frankly, it's quite noble of them. As heads of the largest fishing company, they have more money than everyone in three District 4s combined. They're wealthier than the victors of 4, even. They're so wealthy, that none of the Iwahara's ever really have to worry about being reaped, because their names are exempt- the parents would raise hell with the Capitol and the fishermen would be ordered to strike. Can't have that, can we?

Still.

Despite their fortune, the Iwahara children train, attend school, and function like the rest of us. Their clothes are never torn and patched, never threadbare, but not any finer than anyone else's. Oh, the girls have far prettier reaping day dresses, but other than that it's the same ho-hum getup.

The Iwaharas have offered many a time for us to come live with them while our father was at sea, working for them. I always liked the idea, but my brother always refused to accept it. I'm not sure it is pride, shame, embarrassment, or just politeness that makes him decline with; _I can take of us, Mr. I. Thanks, though. Really, thanks. _

I'm not as considerate as he is. Yet another department where son-of-Njord-Finnick and I differ. As soon as the clouds finally gave in and let the rain pour, I ran to the Iwahara house. One of the sisters opened the door and let me in- a maid ran over with a towel. I don't even think about my answer when I say yes to staying until my father's Docking Day.

I'm not looking forward to breaking the news about Finnick to him. Nor am I eager to deal with the Finnick Odair obsessed girls at school. Oh, well. Such is life, Mallory. Such is life.

A knock on the door of my temporary room pulls me from my thoughts. Three guesses who. "Hiya Mads."

"I um, brought you some extra blankets. This room can get drafty."

"Thanks," I take them and put them on the bed. "What did he say when y'all talked?"

He throws himself on his back onto the bed and looks up at me. "I told him you loved him and he went ape. He told us all of these things he wanted us to do in case he didn't come home. They all involved you, of course. Take care of you, be your brothers, don't let you go hungry, keep bullies away, scare away any gentleman callers like he would, always make sure to make it a point to celebrate your birthday, never let you sell yourself to Peacekeepers to make ends meet, et cetera. We all promised of course."

"He's coming home," I tell him.

"Oh, I know he is," Mads smirks. "Finnick Odair is too stubborn to let a little fight to the death take him out."

"You can say that again," I mumble.

Mads laughs and rolls himself off of the bed. "Sleep well, Mal."

"Mads, wait!" I say.

He pauses by the door. "Yes?"

I point to the digital clock on the nightstand. "It's 10:22. PM."

He smiles, but the look in his eyes is apologetic. "I'm sorry this happened today."

"So am I."

Mads opens the door and flips the light switch so that the only light in the room comes from the hall lights and stands in the doorway with his back to me. He turns his head and looks over his shoulder to say:

"Happy fourteenth birthday, Mallory."


	3. Carpe Diem

Disclaimer: I'm 80% sure that my name isn't Suzanne Collins, so I'm pretty sure I don't own the Hunger Games.

I'm trying to come up with a more appealing summary for this fic, but I can't. xD

In Icelandic, adding mín after someone's name is making it endearing. It's like saying "Sarah dear." Mín is a possessive pronoun, so I guess it's also like saying "my Sarah," but it can be somewhat of a term of endearment when used Sarah mín.

**Carpe Diem**

_Carpe diem, a battle cry_

_Are we all too young to die?_

_Ask a reason and no reply_

_Are we all too young to die?_

_-Greenday "Carpe Diem"_

The Iwahara house is full of distractions. Mads has nineteen siblings and step-siblings, twelve of which who live in his home. The siblings provide great company, and we spend most of our time outside of school playing card games. Only occasionally do we pay attention to the pregames hype on the television. We watched the opening ceremonies on the first day. Nina's stylist made her a mermaid, Finnick's made him a shirtless fisherman. It was comical how well his stylist captured the real Finnick in his chariot 'costume.'

I don't even realize that it is Papa's Docking Day until Mads and one of his sisters wakes me with grins plastered on their faces. They insist on walking with me to the harbor to wait. I did begin to protest, but then I remembered that most of the fishermen work for the Iwahara family, and that there are always a few Iwaharas at the docks, welcoming home their employees.

Today can't be any better; the sun is shining, there is a light breeze in the air, and the sea is calm. It's hard to be happy today, since Finnick isn't here, but I refuse to let the Capitol's little games rob my father of the enthusiastic homecoming he deserves. I have to be twice as happy, since it's just me.

The Rosy Lou is already docked in the harbor by the time I arrive. I squeal and hug Mads before running to the docks. I'm not paying attention while I push through the crowd and run into somebody, knocking them over. The person I knocked over immediately hops back onto their feet and grabs me by my neck. My eyes go wide when I see that it is a young man in a Peacekeeper's uniform, and my first instinct is to apologize, but his hands are tight around my neck, making it hard to breathe, much less speak. He glares menacingly until someone behind him clears their throat.

"Is a clumsy teenager really worth this trouble?"

The Peacekeeper glares at him and spits in my face and drops me on my backside. "Clumsy girls should really watch where they're going, Captain…" He searches the man's captain's uniform for a nametag, smirking when he finds it. "…Odair, huh? You must be that Finnick kid's father."

_No, no, no, Papa doesn't know about that yet. He can't-_

Luckily the Finnick comment goes ignored. "Kindly keep your hands off of my daughter. I assure you, she is harmless."

The Peacekeeper stalks away mumbling under his breath about 'damn District 4' and how he 'can't wait for a transfer.'

"Papa!" I cheer, jumping up and throwing my arms around him. It's only been eight months, but he looks so much older than when I last saw him, far beyond his forty-eight years. His hazel eyes are tired, worn, and look almost dead masked by the shadow cast by his hat. Even so, I'm elated to see him.

Papa hugs me and smiles down at me when he pulls away. "How have you been, firefly? Are you keeping your grades up? Working hard on the near-shore boats? Training?"

"I've been well. My grades are excellent; I'm the top student in my year right now, I finally beat out Noreen Baylor. Can't say the same for Finn's grades, but we're both working hard on the boats- we got pay raises a few months ago, which helps us out a lot. He's the top boy in training, first overall. I'm the sixth rank girl, ninth student overall."

His tired eyes always have a little light in them when he hears good things about his kids. We're his prides and joys. "_Vel gert_, well done, Mallory mín."

"Do you have the key to our house?"

"Right here," he grins, dangling the key in the air and tossing it to me.

We live in a little cottage by the beach. While Papa's at sea, our next door neighbors, the Mayer family, watch the house. The Mayers are a family of twelve- parents, seven children, the oldest son's wife and daughter, and the oldest daughter's baby. Their cottage is smaller than ours, and the Mayer and Odair families have always had close ties, so we're more than happy to lend them our house for some elbow room. It's nice coming home to a clean house when my father is docked rather than a dusty abandoned building.

Once home, Papa asked the question I was dreading he would ask. "Where's your brother?"

_He is in the Capitol, awaiting his imminent death. _"Out."

"Mallory Brooke."

I swallow, afraid to tell him the truth but knowing that I have to. "Papa, he's in the Capitol."

:-:

Lachlan Odair isn't the type to show fear, nor is he the type to show sadness. Anger and happiness are the only two emotions that I've seen my father display.

On the birthdays of all of their children, my mother would sob and scream all day long, barely able to get out of bed. Papa, not yet a ship captain, was home just as much as he was at sea, and was always nearly emotionless. When he found out that our mother was abusing Finn and I, he was furious when he kicked her out, but never showed fear about being a single parent, nor any regret for sending away his wife.

My father is a man of few emotions: today, however, he cries. He falls to his knees, arms cradling his head, and he cries. It isn't a sad, self-pitying cry either. It is hopeless, desperate. It seems that he has about as much faith in his son winning the Hunger Games as he does a one-eyed hake. He's already in mourning for a son that still lives.

"Daddy?" I pipe up, sitting next to him on the floor. I only call him Daddy when I'm extremely upset, or, I guess now, when he's upset.

He doesn't say anything at first, but he does pull me into a hug. When he finally gathers the strength to speak, he keeps hold of my shoulders and makes me look him in the eye. "Mallory mín, you have to listen to me. Whatever happens, you will be taken care-"

"Don't worry about me Daddy," I bite back and stand up, furious. "I'm safe. Finnick's the one in trouble here and don't you dare lose faith in him! He's top ranked at the training academy; he's trained directly under Mags, Sylvie, and Riordan. Papa, you have to believe in him!"

Papa stares down at the floor and says monotonously, "I wasn't there to say goodbye."

"It's not your fault, Papa. You were working."

He shakes his head and punches the wall, leaving a hole. "He's my son, Mallory. I wasn't there for him."

"You're never there for him," I say. "You're never there for me, and I'm your daughter. You can't be there for us when you're at sea and Finnick understands that! He's not angry that you weren't there!"

"And what if he dies, Mallory?"

I'm silent because my first instinct is to kick and scream and insist that my big brother isn't going to die, and my second instinct is to yell at my father and call him horrible names for being so pessimistic. In place of words, I stare down at him while I settle down. When I finally say something, I lean against the wall and offer a half-smile, "If he lives, then you two will have one hell of reunion. There's really nothing you could do about it either way, Papa. If worried about not saying goodbye because you're afraid he doesn't know that you love him, you can quit it, because he knows- we both do. If it's because you're worried that the last thing you said to him was something cruel, then stop it right now, because your last conversation went, 'Behave while I'm gone, son.' 'So you mean drink, smoke weed, drop shrooms, and have unprotected sex? Got it Pa, will do.' 'Just don't get anyone pregnant, and look after you sister. If you let some horny teenager get _her _get pregnant, I'll kick your ass,' and then you two hugged farewell. Don't worry, Daddy. Okay?"

He stands up and runs his fingers through his thick brown hair. "You've always been good at pep talks."

"I get that from you," I say. "But seriously, just think positively about Finn. He'll be all right, you'll see."

Papa is looking at my upper chest just beneath my collarbone. This must mean that's noticed that my necklace is missing. "Did he take a token?"

I motion to my upper chest. "Yes, I gave him the necklace to remind of home. Trust me, if he ever gives up hope, one look at it will remind him of what he's got to fight for."

"That was smart, Mal."

I shrug, "He needed something, I had something."

We sit up talking for several more hours. I ask him about work and life on the ship, and I tell him about the Home, school, my friends, Eyrún, and training. When he asks if we've seen Mom around, like he always does, I say no. He worries that she'll come after us when he's gone, but he's got to realize that we're fourteen now- not helpless little children- and if it comes down to it, we'll fight to keep her from making us sick. Once we get off of the subject of Mom, he tries to stay awake longer, but I won't let him.

"You've been at sea for five months. You've had a long day. Go to bed, Papa."

"Thank you, Mal."

"And Papa?"

"Yes," he yawns. "What is it?"

"Finnick's going to be all right. You'll see."


End file.
